


"Better Things To Do With His Time"

by farad



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:19:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt from Huntersglenn: Josiah/Vin, OW, the many different ways to worship God.  A(nother) post-script to "Manhunt".</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Better Things To Do With His Time"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the awesome Delphi for the multiple betas. All mistakes my very personal own.

_"KO-JE: You know my son's reasons?_

 

_JOSIAH: No. But I know what it's like to have a Bible shoved down your throat. How mad that can make a man. See, my father was a missionary, like Mosley. Did his work for awhile--till we broke._

 

_KO-JE: Your God came between your father and you and between me and Chanu. Your God should find better things to do with his time._

 

_He walks away. Josiah smiles and shakes his head."_

 

From Zeke Black's transcript of "Manhunt"

 

 

 

He wasn't surprised to find Vin sitting on the stairs of the church. Josiah had been in the saloon for the past several hours, thinking that the younger man would show up eventually. He'd looked like he could use a drink after the Judge had pronounced sentence on Owen Mosley: ten years imprisonment for the crime of manslaughter, but due to the 'extenuating circumstances', he was eligible for parole in five.

 

The Court had dismissed the charge of inciting a mob, again claiming 'extenuating circumstances'.

 

The 'extenuating circumstances' were Chanu and his people, the Indians who lived on the reservation and who Owen Mosley's mob had been willing to kill.

 

"You can go in," he said as he drew near. "Door's always open."

 

Vin shrugged and pushed his hat back, looking up as Josiah drew near. The faint light of the moon washed out the color of his eyes, but Josiah could feel their intensity. "After this thing with Mosley, I ain't so sure I want to be welcome in the house of his god."

 

Josiah nodded, settling himself on the stairs near Vin. It was a nice night, the temperature not too hot or cold, a breeze blowing that wasn't strong enough to stir up the dust but did make the evening pleasant. It reminded him of the reservation, where the higher altitude made the night times almost chilly this time of year. He'd only been away about a week, but he missed the place, the peace of it.

 

Above them, a crow cawed, its voice sharp in the quiet. In the distance, another answered, their anger echoing through the darkness.

 

"Wish I could explain Mosley," he said after a time. "I spent a lot of time thinking about him – well, about men like him. Ko-Je talked some . . . " He paused, not sure what, exactly, to say.

 

"About your pa?" Vin said, picking it out of the air, like he often did. "If he was like Mosley, well . . . "

 

Josiah swallowed. He'd been fighting away the image of Hannah for days now, fighting away the idea of his father's big hands around his sister's frail throat. It had been easier when he had Chanu to think about, the worry of what would happen if things got out of hand. When he had Ko-Je's riddles to twist through his head, trying to figure them out.

 

Now, sitting with Vin, he had nothing to stop the images. The guilt. The anger.

 

'He will speak to you when the anger is gone,' Ko-Je had said, clarifying that the anger wasn't at his father but at himself. And for a time, he had let the anger go.

 

But it all came back, mixed up in the rush of memory, of Mosley standing there, his arms outstretched as he'd unintentionally demonstrated what he had done to his own daughter. Because that daughter had fallen in love with someone her father did not find worthy, not in his own eyes. He'd used the excuse of 'God's eyes', the excuse of righteousness, but Josiah knew better.

 

Just as he had known better with his own father.

 

"I can understand him being angry," Vin said quietly, his voice taking on the slow speed that it did when he was thinking hard about what he was saying. "Reckon it's hard to see your daughter taking up with someone you don't approve of. Maybe harder when they run off and do something like getting married without telling you. But – to be so angry he could do that to her – that's some sort of hate."

 

"Yeah," Josiah sighed. "Maybe sometimes, trying to share the word of the Lord forces a man to believe too much in his own convictions." The echo of his father's voice, calling down the wrath of God on his daughter, the calls for punishment in hopes of redemption, the sounds of her words, just as hard as his father, just as angry though laced with tears . . . He could see it all as clearly as the image Mosley had painted with his own words, back at the reservation.

 

The breeze picked up a little, brushing against his face. Across the street, the curtain in room above The Clarion moved in a ghostly dance that startled him.

 

Vin took a deep breath, tilting his head back a little so he could look up into the sky. The stars were beginning to show, little lights that twinkled against the darkness. "I lived with the Comanche and the Kiowa for a time – long enough to learn the ways of Ko-Je's people. I heard it said that they don't believe in things the way white folk do. But that's not true. I reckon you saw that while you were at the reservation." It was a statement but there was lift in his voice at the end, making it a question.

 

Josiah smiled, recalling JD's misadventure in the sweat lodge. "They have very strong beliefs," he said, thinking of Ko-Je's spirits and the secrets they had shared – the details that no one had known until Mosley had confirmed them.

 

"They know how to live with other people," Vin said slowly. "They believe that everything you do affect everyone else, especially in your family. You do what you're supposed to do because it affect all the people around you. That ties you more to the world than any god telling you what to do and why. They don't need to believe in Heaven and Hell – that's what this world is for."

 

The wind chimes in Gloria's store tinkled in the distance, the sound solemn and heavy on the wind.

 

Josiah turned and looked at him, thinking about his words. The thought wasn't new; he'd lived among the Chinese for a number of years, while his father had ministered the same way Mosley had, and he'd been in India and other places in the Far East. He knew that Christ and his father were not the only gods actively followed.

 

He had come to believe, though, that they weren't the only ones who were 'true'. That had been the breaking point with his father, when he hadn't been able to accept any more that their 'god' was better than the ones that others actively believed in. Especially when the messages of these different faiths were so very similar.

 

And that was it, to him then and now. It was what he had realized with Ko-Je – it's not about the god, it's about the message.

 

"Reckon you're right," Josiah said, reaching out one hand to drop it lightly on Vin's knee. "And I suspect that there are more of us in all faiths who believe that. But there are always a few men, in every group, who need to believe that their way is the only way."

 

Vin sighed but he nodded, once. He shifted but kept the leg Josiah was touching still. "He was leading those men to burn down the reservation. You know how many people would have been hurt – maybe even killed? They ain't got nowhere to go – Army won't let them off that place. They're sitting targets for that kind of anger. For men like Mosley. And the Judge let that go – 'extenuating circumstances'."

 

Josiah turned to look at Vin, recalling what Nathan had told him over dinner one night, about the friend Vin had lost when the Army forced the Indians to the reservation. "You never doubted Chanu," he said.

 

Vin looked at him, lifting one hand to rub at his throat. "Well, for a few minutes, I did," he said with a slight grin, and Josiah recalled that Vin had almost died. His fingers tightened on Vin's knee, and Vin's smile grew a little. "If he'd wanted me dead, I'd have been dead," he said lightly, but he dropped a hand on top of Josiah's. "Guess that told me more than anything. Ain't in his nature to kill for no reason."

 

"It wasn't his path," Josiah said, understanding a little more what Ko-Je meant. He looked out into the night. In the distance, a dust demon whirled in the light breeze, dancing along its own path to the ringing of the wind chimes.

 

Vin's grip tightened a little, an agreement.

 

"Reckon it was Mosley's though," Vin said quietly. "And the law agrees with him." The last was hard and bitter.

 

Josiah drew a breath, not sure what to say, but Vin went on, his voice just sad now. "Judge told me after that he didn't have a choice, that the federal people were putting pressure on him to let Mosley go. Seems he's got a lot of support back in Washington. Five years in prison for killing his daughter and grandchild, but nothing for trying to kill all those 'extenuating circumstances'."

 

They sat for a while, watching the night darken and the stars brighten. The breeze gentled, soft again, and cool. Eventually, Josiah said, "Been a long week. Ko-Je's hospitality was generous, but I surely did miss sleeping in my bed."

 

Vin's teeth flashed in the darkness, and his hand fell away from Josiah's. "Can't argue with that," he said, shifting to get his feet under him.

 

"You're still welcome to come in," Josiah said. "I'd appreciate the company. Got a few questions about Ko-Je's people, if you're of a mind to talk."

 

Vin rose to his feet then held out a hand, offering to help Josiah. It wasn't necessary, but Josiah enjoyed the contact and the gentle strength that Vin showed so rarely. "Reckon I could do that," he said.

 

But as Josiah started up the stairs toward the door into the main room, he felt Vin hesitate. He glanced back to see Vin staring up toward the roof, at the crucifix that was just barely visible against the darkness of the night sky. Two crows sat on top of it, one on each arm, silent and dark. The wind stirred and the crows flew, the flap of their wings like a drumbeat against the tinkling chimes.

 

Josiah stared after them, thinking of fathers sacrificing their children, of the price of faith. Of gods and the paths men chose to walk.

 

He turned back and started down the stairs, catching Vin's arm as he did. "I almost forgot about the beans – I want to check them, may need to water them while its cool."

 

Vin followed along, not arguing, but no longer hesitant. As they reached the worn path along the side of the church, Vin said, "Think I'm heading out to the reservation in the morning. Need to let Ko-Je and Chanu know about what happened."

 

Josiah glanced over at Vin, knowing him well enough now to know that this was not a general comment. "I could stand another visit to the sweat lodge," he said, "maybe listen out for the spirits."

 

Vin nodded, then he looked at Josiah and smiled. For now, things were, as Ko-Je had said, as they should be.

 

Above them, the crows circled, cawing softly now, before gliding away into the night.

 

 

 


End file.
